He’s naked, blindfolded, his arms bound to gold rings protruding from the fancy wallpaper. I’m arrested by shock. His chin is dropped to his chest, and it stays that way as I heave and shake on the spot, screaming to myself to go to him. He hasn’t moved a muscle. I swallow down my choked sob when I realise I’m too late and let out a scream of frustration, only then noticing a tall blonde woman with a whip in hand prowling towards me.
‘How dare you interrupt!’ she yells, lashing the whip. The tip catches my cheek, and I recoil, immediately feeling blood trickling down the side of my face. My hand flies to my cheek, my body staggering back in shock. My eyes are pulling, wanting to check on Miller, but her malevolence keeps my wary attention. It’s potent and gushing from her like a tidal wave. ‘You’re interrupting,’ she snarls, a tinge of an accent in her tone. Russian. ‘Leave!’
There is not a chance in hell I’m leaving him. I see red. ‘You can’t have him!’ I scream, deranged, recoiling when she snaps the whip again. My anger is dominating every fibre of my being, sending my initial fear crashing and burning to the shiny wooden floor.
I scan the room for anything remotely damaging to arm myself with, catching a glimpse of metal on the bed. Miller’s belt. I dart over and yank it from his trousers, flying around erratically. I tense everywhere, that red mist thickening, blinding me, as I prepare to strike.
‘You little bitch. What do you think you’re going to do?’ She stalks closer, whip twitching, completely unfazed by my threat.
‘He belongs to me.’ I grit my teeth, desperately fighting to hold my poise. I won’t be whole until I’m out of here and Miller is safely in my arms.
Her lip is curling ferociously, not that it has any impact on the wall of fury taking over me. I find my own lip curling in response, my eyes daring her to come at me. I can see him in my peripheral vision, still hanging lifelessly from the wall. It jerks my anger. My skin tingles from the rampant fury fizzing in my veins, and before I can even contemplate my actions, my arm is flying forward, sending the belt buckle sailing through the air. I don’t wait to see where it connects, but her yelp of pain tells me it has. I race over to Miller and lift my hand to his cheek, brushing across his stubble softly. He mumbles some incoherent words and nuzzles sleepily into my palm. His actions and the popping of fireworks under my skin spur me to reach for his restraints. I start to calmly unravel his hands from the fetters.
‘Get away from him!’ She’s suddenly beside me, grabbing at Miller’s arm, staking her claim. He flinches on a heart-breaking whimper.
I can’t bear the sound.
I tear around, livid, swinging my hand out without stopping to aim. ‘Don’t touch him!’ I scream, the back of my hand colliding with her face on an ear-piercing slap. She staggers back, disorientated, and I take advantage of her stumble, throwing my palms into her chest to push her farther away from Miller. My Miller.
I have no fear. None at all. I slowly return my attention to Miller, but I gasp when my hand is suddenly seized. Not by her hand, though. Pain sears through my flesh and I look down to see the leather of her sick weapon wrapped around my burning wrist.
‘Move away,’ she repeats, yanking at the whip and hauling me towards her. I cry out in pain, realising quickly that I’m getting way out of my depth. She’s not going to give him up.
‘You move away, Ekaterina.’
My head whips up at the sound of my mother’s voice, and I find her at the doorway, heaving, taking a moment to assess the situation. She looks angry, her stance wide, her eyes flicking from me to Miller before settling on the sick bitch who’s attached to me by a whip. My mother’s face is twisted with contempt.
And she has a gun in her hand.
I’m struck dumb, my eyes rooted on the weapon pointing right at the Russian.
I only have to wait a few seconds before the constricting leather releases from my wrist, and I begin rubbing the pain away on a wince.
‘Gracie Taylor,’ she muses, smiling. ‘I’m going to pretend you haven’t got a gun pointing at my head.’ Her accent sounds hypnotising and calm.
‘You do that.’ Gracie steps forward. ‘Then ring your brother and tell him Charlie hasn’t delivered.’
Perfectly threaded eyebrows arch in surprise. ‘Why would I do that?’
‘The deal Charlie and your dear brother struck is void. Miller doesn’t belong to Charlie anymore, Ekaterina. He’s not Charlie’s to give. Look at him. Does he look willing to you? Charlie did that. I’m sure that’s not what you were anticipating after everything you’ve heard about the Special One.’ My mum’s lips curl, showing a hardness in her I haven’t yet seen. ‘I know you don’t want to tarnish your formidable reputation with the label “rapist”, Ekaterina.’
She drops her whip and casts a look over to Miller, pouting, before returning her attention to my mother. ‘I like to hear them begging me to stop.’ She looks slighted as she slowly wanders over to Gracie, who lowers the gun cautiously. ‘And you say Charlie Anderson did this to him? Drugged him? Made him utterly useless to me?’
‘Do you want it in blood?’